


Beyond Human

by Sagartolen



Category: Mystery Skulls Animated
Genre: Alternate Universe, Amnesia, Angst, Blood and Injury, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Drama, Gen, Hellbent (Mystery Skulls Animated), Memory Loss, Panic Attacks, Post-Hellbent (Mystery Skulls Animated), Winged-Arthur, Wingfic, Wings, ghost-lewis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2020-10-18 23:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20647460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sagartolen/pseuds/Sagartolen
Summary: In which ancient bloodlines awaken and no one is happy.((Called 'Winged-Arthur AU' on Tumblr))





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic I started writing on Tumblr
> 
> I have now decided to start posting here. If you want to read ahead on the slightly less edited version you can on my Tumblr account: [pi-cat000](http://pi-cat000.tumblr.com/)
> 
> This chapter matches up with [this](https://pi-cat000.tumblr.com/post/181456965322/msa-winged-arthur-au-part-1) and [this.](https://pi-cat000.tumblr.com/post/181767163277/msa-winged-arthur-au-part-2)

Arthur awakens feeling lighter than he has in years. All his pain and stress is gone, replaced with an intense calm, like all his worries have been smoothed over, leaving only a golden warmth behind. 

He is lying on hard stone, staring up at an arching stone ceiling.

There are a few moments of confusion while he tries to piece together how he can still be conscious when his last memory is of falling to his death.

Above him he can make out the small shape of the skeleton ghost Lewis, peering down over the rocky ledge, seeming almost panicked. It’s weird that he can make out that detail from so far below. Before he can dwell too much on the fact that, not only is Lewis dead but also a fiery ghost of anger, he catches sight his own chest. It’s glowing a vibrant yellow, so bright it is almost white.

Confused, he raises a hand. His skin is glowing, shimmering, and reflecting warm light, chasing away the shadows clinging to the stone around him. That’s not the only noteworthy change. There is something very wrong with his back and shoulders. Though he is lying on solid stone, he is not feeling the cold sensation of rock and dirk against his shirt. Another layer of limb is sitting between him and the ground. 

Carefully, Arthur flips himself over, acutely aware of the extra weight attached to his shoulder blades and dragging along the ground. After struggling briefly, he makes it upright and glances back at the feathery mass folded across his spine, twitching in time with his movements. _Feathers?_ He can feel how they shuffle and brush up against the cave’s many stone spikes, responding to his thoughts.

They almost look like…

Arthur impulsively rolls his shoulders, new muscles are loosening, bunching and stretching, preparing for something more. He feels strong. Stronger than he has ever felt before. It’s a good feeling. If these are what he thinks they are then, he should be able to…

The feathers rustle, snapping out in one rapid move, displacing the surrounding air, picking up dirt and dust, which swirls around him in a cloud. The shadows shrink away, curing in on themselves. The action comes naturally, guided by a long-forgotten instinct.

_Wings…he has wings?_ They’re wide. Double his arm span. Their brilliant, golden yellow shine brightens with his movement, lighting up his immediate surroundings, radiating outward. Around him, the ground hisses and fizzes, letting off blackened wisps of steam, recoiling. Experimentally, Arthur pulls the wings up and pushes down. More dirt and dust circles about him in a mini-tornado. With each action and minute movement, he can feel air catch. The sensation of weightlessness is liberating.

Instinctively, he knows exactly what to do next. Arthur beats his new wings down hard, rocketing up into the air. Wind rushes past, swirling around his body, so he’s almost floating. For a second, between the downward thrusts, he’s still. Another heavy beat has him hovering a few meters from Lewis.

Arthur slows, allowing himself to hang, suspended in space.

Lewis is gaping, kneeling at the cliff’s edge, appearing shocked. Well, as shocked as a skeleton with no facial features can look. The illusion of human-Lewis has fallen away, and he’s once again all purple fire and white bone.

Their eyes connect and that beautiful sensation of calm shatters. It’s replaced with disappointment, fear, sadness, anger and a smoothie of other unidentified emotions, mixing together, souring any sense of tranquillity. Arthur floats forward to land on the cliff’s edge and stumbles, unused to his new weight. Luckily, the wings automatically flare out to he doesn’t fall straight back off again. 

Lewis scrambles back in a bid to make room. It is right about _now_ that Arthur realises he has no idea what to say. All he can do is stare.

The white shimmer, which has been dancing over his skin, dims to a more natural colour. The bight, golden light emitting from his new wings also eases down to a dull glow, so he’s no longer a shining beacon. Arthur takes a wobbly step forward when the wings shift unexpectantly, and he glances uneasily at the vertical drop on either side of him.

“Lewis?” He breaths, still not entirely trusting the reality happing right in front of him. Had he imagined the Lewis thing altogether? He _had_ been in the middle of being chucked off a cliff. 

“…I’ve been,” He starts, hesitating when Lewis floats upright so he’s standing again. Lewis. Purple, flaming, skeleton, Lewis, “Is that really you?”

Lewis is staring at him in an odd combination of menace and confusion. His facial features, lit unevenly by purple flame, flicker briefly between human and skeleton. It _is_ Lewis!

“Who else would it be,” Lewis rumbles, angry flames jumping, growing from ankle to knee height.

“We were looking for you,” Arthur blurts because he still has no idea what’s going on and he needs to do something about the tense atmosphere, “We searched for, like, ever. All over the country. We even went to Canada, twice, because you mentioned that one time that you wanted to go, but you weren’t there. Obviously. You’re here…and uh…”

He doesn’t know how he’s managed it, being skully and all, but Lewis is definitely glaring now. The fire crackles up, blocking the cavern’s only exit. 

“Are you ghost?” Arthur babbles on, voice slowly going up several octaves, “Why are you a ghost? Are you dead?”

The purple lights, which have replaced Lewis’s eyes, seem to narrow.

“Am I dead?” Arthur is definitely panicking now, “What’s happening. Oh god. You tried to…”

He needs to stop talking, but his dead best friend just tried to…had just tried to…His mind skips over the sentence as it gets stuck in his throat.

”You tried to kill me!” Arthur accuses and points, almost losing his balance. The words are wrong. They sound wrong.

The purple fire sparks, gaining new life.

Arthur freezes. That was definitely the wrong thing to say.

“I tried to kill _you_,” Lewis growls, the area around them is filled rows of raging flames. He’s mad. Very mad. Arthur is reminded uncomfortably of the mansion and how he and Vivi were almost buried in a similar inferno. 

“I tried to kill _YOU_!” Lewis roars. Frames hiss and spit.

The fire explodes outward in a superheated wave of magenta.

“_YOU’RE THE ONE WHO KILLED ME!”_

“What?” Is all he manages to say in his defence before he staggers backward under the onslaught, stepping right off the cliff’s edge. This time he doesn’t plummet straight down onto the stone spikes because his wings snap out to catch the air. Clumsily, he flops about, attempting to right himself. Warm air buffets him about. While the instincts for flight are all there, the skill and grace are not. It doesn’t help that his mind is doing its own series of nauseating summersaults.

“You murdered me! You murdered me and left me here to rot!” Lewis is yelling, floating near the cliff’s edge, encircled by those freaky purple wraiths. Arthur steadies himself several feet down and out of range, wings beating erratically to keep himself aloft. 

“No. I…I would never….” He starts, then shouts up, equally frustrated as he is fearful, “We searched everywhere for you!”

“You pushed me of this very cliff! WHY! WHY DID YOU DO IT?”

The fire streaks outwards and the whole cave shimmers in the heat. Arthur’s body and limbs glow, pale white lost in the sea of purple, and the heat dissipates, absorbed by the light.

“I’ve never seen this place in my life,”

“STOP LYING!”

Lewis is beyond listening now, lost within his mini tornado of fire and emotion. Around them, smaller pink ghosts appear, wailing a high pitched melody. Arthur drops down to the cave floor, escaping the worst of the flames. He is unwilling to put his newfound fire resistance to the test. Thankfully, Lewis doesn’t follow him, remaining suspended up above, yelling angrily into the empty space. His furious cries mix together with the mournful wailing of the pink ghosts to make a discordant mess. It bounces and echoes through the cavern, jarring to the ears, glowing in volume.

Arthur grimaces, shivering and couching down, putting both hands over his ears to block out the intense noise. He’s never seen Lewis this angry or distressed about anything. It’s painful to both watch and hear. He wants to do something, anything, to help, but he has no idea how. He doesn’t know why Lewis thinks he would ever do something…something as terrible as trying to kill his best friend.

Along his back, he can feel the wings move and twitch, and he shivers again, forcing them to hang limp. Speckled about the stone floor, amongst the spikes, are flecks of red. His blood. Though, upon examination, there are no wounds anywhere on his person. The only evidence he has of the fall is his shredded, bloody clothing. It doesn’t make him feel any better and only confirms that something has gone horribly wrong.

Up above, Lewis’s roaring tappers off till there is only the crackle of flames. Arthur tears his eye’s away from the small puddles of red to squint up. With one last burst of intense fire, Lewis stops yelling all together, eyes darting around to locate Arthur on the floor below.

Slowly, Lewis floats towards him.

In a snap, Arthur is back on his feet and retreating, intent on giving Lewis all the spare room he can manage. His way is blocked by several pink ghosts who appear and bear their teeth menacingly at him. Automatically, the wings extend out, prepping for flight. He forces them back into a more inert state.

Nervously, he waits, watching Lewis touch down, all the while frowning at Arthur.

“No one remembered. No one knows what happened. You just vanished!” Arthur starts speaking again, feeling a discordant mix of upset, exasperated, scared, and hopeful.

“Me and Vivi, we searched for you. ”

“If you don’t remember anything then why are you running away,” Lewis bites, clenching and unclenching his fists, taking an aggressive step forward. Fire inches towards Arthur. They are only meters apart now.

“You collapsed a house on us, ran the van off the road, and threw me off a cliff!” Arthur retorts, stiffening, “Why wouldn’t I run away!”

“You killed me!” Lewis barks, but it lacks the hate and fury from moments before.

“And you almost killed me,” Arthur responds heatedly before hesitating, throwing an uncertain glance over his shoulder at the wings, “I am still alive, right?”

Lewis falters, and the fire retreats, “You’re not. Dead, I mean. You’re not dead,”

Arthur, surprised, shifts his attention back to Lewis, “How do you know?”

“I just do,” Lewis snaps, glaring again. There is a tense silence while Arthur waits to see if Lewis is going to go full explosion mode again. Nothing happens. Even the smaller ghosties dissipate, disappearing into the cracked heart floating on Lewis’s chest. 

“I didn’t want to try and kill you…” Lewis begins, tone softer now, “or run you off the road…” his gaze flickers away to land on the angry bands of fire still circling his feet.

The next sentence is muttered, soft, barely audible, sounding almost sorrowful.

“What’s wrong with me.”

Arthur hears it anyway because he apparently has super-hearing now.

“Lewis I…,” He steps forward, ignoring the drag of foreign weight at his back. Carefully, he reaches out a shaky hand to touch Lewi’s shoulder, “I’m sor…”

“Don’t touch me,” Lewis growls, glowering, and Arthur flinches back. His arm drops limply back to his side. Tense seconds pass and neither of them moves.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also read this fic on Tumblr. This chapter matches up with [this](https://pi-cat000.tumblr.com/post/182394810732/msa-winged-arthur-au-part-3) and [this.](https://pi-cat000.tumblr.com/post/184200858652/msa-winged-arthur-au-part-4)

The feathers are soft, slightly stiff yet equally flexible. Arthur stares, morbidly fascinated, watching the plumage ripple when he tenses and relaxes his back muscles. Seated as he is on the rough stone, the new wings are bent awkwardly, curving around to give him better access. The feathers feel almost fragile when he runs his fingers through the portion he can reach. They tingle, the sensation akin to pulling on a strand of hair.

A burst of purple draws his attention away. Arthur sneaks a glance at Lewis who is now standing several meters away, flames dancing around him at varying heights. The ghost appears to be silently working through another flare-up of anger and rage. There is an eruption of fire, a column of flame shoots up into the air, and a wave of heat sweeps over the cavern floor. At least it’s not directed his way this time.

Arthur sighs, shifting in discomfort, attempting to shuffle into a position so his new wings aren't at risk of going stiff. The movement catches Lewis’s attention, the fire dies back down. Once again they both freeze, staring at each other. 

“What happened to your arm,” Lewis asks suddenly, breaking the begrudging silence.

Arthur blinks, taken off guard, glancing at his mechanical arm. Between its grey metal plates, he glimpses a strange flickering golden light, the same light he’d seen emanating from the wings seconds ago. He has a feeling Lewis isn’t talking about this particular change.

“I lost it the night you, ah, disappeared,” He responds carefully from where he’s seated. Maybe, if he stays on the ground, Lewis won’t be so agitated.

Lewis narrows his eyes, “How?”

“I don’t remember…” He answers lamely. 

Lewis seems frustrated by this, but it’s not like Arthur can offer anything else.

“What do you remember then,” He snaps, “because I remember getting pushed off a cliff.”

Arthur grimaces then starts the recount like he has done a dozen times with various parties, “I remember the cave entrance, walking inside, you and me walking together, then…nothing.”

Nothing. Unless you counted nightmares which were as equally incomprehensible as they were terrifying. Arthur shakes the chill away. “I woke up in a hospital down both a limb and a friend. There was a police investigation and everything, but they never found the cave…or you,” He trails off, watching Lewis for signs of a flare-up. The other has shifted back to his more human appearance, which is frowning in thought, and Arthur can’t help but stare.

“Vivi, what about Vivi, what did she remember?” Lewis suddenly speaks, stepping forward urgently.

Arthur tenses, “She doesn’t remember anything either…Her memory of that day starts by the side of the road, halfway between the interstate and Tempo. I was unconscious by that point, blood loss from the arm. She got me to a hospital before I bled out completely. ”

“I see. That’s…” Lewis seems to want to smile, but he falters, muttering more to himself then to Arthur, “She saw me die. It’s good that she forgot.”

“Er,” Arthur opens then quickly shuts his mouth. Crap. Should he tell Lewis that Vivi’s amnesia extends way past just the night of the incident? That she’s forgotten Lewis entirely? Lewis has only just calmed down enough speak rationally. Would he explode if Arthur said something? 

“Oh no. I…I didn’t mean to…” Lewis blurts, new horror colouring his tone, “She was in the van. I ran you off the road!”

Arthur jumps at the sudden and loud address.

“Vivi could be injured.” Fire leaps up again, responding to Lewis’s realisation.

“Was she in the van? Is she okay?” Lewis asks desperately, striding forward to close the deliberate distance Arthur has put between them.

“Ah,” Arthur flinches back, wings coming to life and curing up defensively. Lewis pauses, attention flickering between Arthur and long appendages like he's momentarily forgotten about their existence.

“I don’t know. I kind of hit my head going through the windshield,” Arthur responds, watching Lewis’s form flicker between skeleton and human as he struggled to contain an explosion of fire and emotion. Slowly, Arthur climbs to his feet, watching Lewis wearily. Vivi’s wellbeing is a concern of his as well, but he’s been hesitant to try and leave with Lewis acting so volatile. He hopes she had fared better in the crash then he had. Without the strange magical wing-related healing Arthur is sure he would still be concussed and suffering a few broken bones.

Over Lewis’s shoulder, three of those small purple ghosts are back, bobbing about, mirroring Lewis’s distress.

Arthur clears his throat, “How about we go check on Vivi, then we can resume whatever this is,” He gestures absently at the rocks and spikes, “Later.”

Lewis breaks out of whatever panic he’s having, focusing on Arthur. His form settles on human again, and Arthur is the subject of several scrutinising stares from both Lewis and his little ghostie pals.

“Don’t think you can try and run again.”

Arthur sighs, exasperated, “I won’t. Let’s just focus on getting out of this cave and finding Vivi.”

Lewis nods slowly, satisfied, he seems to care more about Vivi then raging at Arthur for the time being. A rush of heated air and Lewis is hovering a few meters up. The smaller ghosties are now bobbing around in time to a silent beat, throwing the occasional glare Arthur’s way. 

Arthur shivers, eyes tracking his friend’s flight, wishing everything weren't so wrong. Of all the reunion scenarios he’d imagined in his time searching for Lewis, this is far from one of them. He glances over his shoulder at the wings, giving them an experimental flap. Air and dust stir about his ankles. This is so many levels of not right and he’s well and truly at a loss. The best he can hope for is Vivi somehow knowing what to do.

Of course, because nothing is ever easy, following Lewis into the air turns out to be more of a challenge than Arthur thinks is fair. Now he’s focusing on intentionally flying the process has become unreasonably hard. Arthur lifts his arms up and down and rolls his shoulders, watching the wings shake but otherwise remain inert. Just moving them up and down is not giving him the sense of lift he needs. What happened to that weightless sensation? 

“Are you coming?” Lewis is glowering again, arms crossed, waiting. 

Arthur glares up, retorting, “I’ve had these things for all of two seconds give me a moment.” Lewis isn’t the only one anxious to find Vivi.

He closes his eyes, tensing and un-tensing different muscles, attempting to recapture that euphoric sensation of flight. He snaps them open, then beats down in an unsynchronised, discordant movement, which has Arthur stumbling to one side. Why is this hard all of a sudden? Two seconds ago, he’d flown up there with no problem.

Magic. It had to be magic because there is no way these wings are strong enough to lift a human body off the ground. That’s not how gravity or aerodynamics worked. Determinedly, Arthur tries to conjure an approximation of the innate strength and inner calm from earlier. He opens his eyes, watching the golden glow return, faint but there. The weightlessness returns as well. Unfortunately, the new weightlessness only serves to further disrupt his balance. He flings out a hand to steady himself on a nearby rock formation.

Arthur breaths out, frustrated, preparing to try again. Only, he doesn’t get to try again, because when he looks up Lewis is right up close. Uncomfortably close.

This time, Arthur really does fall over, flinging himself back with way too much force when considering his reduced weight. He hits the ground hard and discovers that the wings are ridiculously sensitive. Pain erupts along his back from where it connects with rock, jolting through every nerve. A flash of white agony obstructs his vision. He groans and tries to curl up. Heat-resistant? Yes. Impact-resistant? A resounding NO. Lesson learned. 

Lewis’s hand enters his field of view, reaching towards him.

“What are you doing!” Arthur panics immediately, trying to roll away and smacking into an adjacent rock when the wings get caught under his own weight. The pain and uneven mass are making him clumsier than normal.

“I’m helping,” Lewis grumbles, visibly irritated, following after him, “Hold still.”

He snags the front of Arthur’s ripped shirt in a move which reminds Arthur uneasily of his recent trip over the cliff. This time Lewis is using it to prevent Arthur from falling instead of a way to make Arthur fall. It doesn’t help him feel any safer.

As soon as Arthur’s feet leave the ground, the wings snap out, coming to life, flapping and flopping sporadically. Lewis’s grip falters, and he holds Arthur out, leaning back to avoid the chaos of feathers. The ghost still gets bashed over the head several times.

“Arthur!” Lewis’s temper doesn’t hold for long, “Stop moving!”

“I’m trying,” Arthur protests, slightly panicked, “This is harder than it looks.” Another smack to the temple provokes a growl and several impatient hisses from the smaller ghosts. It doesn’t help.

After a lot of fussing, Arthur manages to compel all his unruly limbs to hang limp. Finally, the wings loosen, stilling. The gold glow dissipates. His sudden weight takes Lewis off guard, and they both narrowly avoid tumbling onto the ground. Still holding Arthur at arms distance, Lewis flies to the top of the cliff.

“Are you going to fall again if I let you go?” Lewis questions, setting him down none too gently. Arthur thinks the sentiment is a little unfair because the only reason he’d fallen off the first time was to escape Lewis’s fire outburst.

“Probably not?” He tries to pull away, shooting a frown at Lewis when the ghost doesn’t let him go immediately. More suspicious staring reaffirms that Lewis is still far from trusting and he’s not out of the woods quite yet. Arthur wishes he had a way to reassure his friend. For both their sakes. 

“Don’t move,” Lewis finally orders, releasing his shirt, “This process is hard when I have to worry about another person’s safety.”

The world shivers like a mirage in a desert. The cave warps, stone and rock quaking. Fire begins to slowly consume the scenery, eating away at rock walls, curling in towards them. Nervously, Arthur eyes the new development, turning to Lewis. The ghost is entirely still, fire along his shoulders flaring in tandem with their surroundings. Whatever Lewis is doing it’s taking his full attention.

“Wait…Is this an illusion,” Arthur can’t help but voice when everything turns from purple to a muted grey. Steel walls shimmer into existence, putting him and Lewis at the centre of a small metal box. If Arthur had to take an educated guess, he would say this is the back of a semi-trailer. 

“How?”

The cave had been enormous, cavernous, and this is tiny and small. It broke all the laws of physics.

“I hate magic,” Arthur mutters.


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur abandons his numerous objections to Lewis’s blatant disregard of physics, pinning them for later contemplation. Instead, he hurries past to see out the opened end of the semi-trailer. The view is of Kingsman Mechanics, and it’s a mess. Chunks of asphalt have been ripped up in jagged lines. Mangled panels of splintered wood, all that is left of the fence which once separated the scrapyard and car park, are scattered in pieces across the ground. Bits of junk, which should be confined behind the said fence are also strewn about haphazardly. Finally, all the workshop’s windows have been shattered, leaving behind empty holes. Arthur takes a second to absorb the unexpected, and somewhat alarming sight, before hastily jumping onto the uneven ground. He lands, overbalances, and stumbles back, smacking into the side of the trailer. It hurts.

Lewis, also freezing momentarily, floats over and past him. It seems that Arthur is off the hook for the moment, Lewis being more concerned with quickly flying towards Arthur’s van. Arthur follows carefully, picking his way over the torn-up ground, half concentrating on keeping the wings raised and out of the dirt. He doesn’t want them getting caught on any sharp debris.

The van is precisely how he left it, pancaked into the workshop’s wall, altogether totalled. Arthur winces, scanning the crumpled frame, hesitating a few feet away. He is lucky to have survived, considering he hadn’t been wearing a seatbelt. Very luckily. Just seeing the broken windshield is bringing up unpleasant memories of hurtling down the adjacent hill, red brick rushing to greet him.

Lewis begins his search of the van’s interior, ripping the back doors completely free with supernatural ease. Those small, pink ghost blobs are also darting around, scanning their surroundings.

Based on Lewis’s increasingly frantic movements, there is still no sign of Vivi. She’s not in the van. Arthur is not sure if that is a good thing if one takes into account the damage done to the building and environment. Sure, the van looks terrible, but there is absolutely no way his crash caused all this. Something else must have happened while he was busy getting thrown off a cliff. Something destructive.

“Vivi!” He calls, turning, twisting left and right. Quickly, he starts around the opposite side of the building, heading towards the visitor’s entrance. The destruction is more pronounced here. It looks like something vaguely human-shaped has erupted out of the pavement in several places.

“Vivi!”

Arthur stumbles, pain jolting down his back, sharp and demanding. In his hast, he has accidentally let his concentration drop, so the wings have been dragging on the ground behind him. Now they’re caught on a mound of rubble. While Arthur works on hitting the correct combination of muscle twitches needed to get them free, a weak voice catches his attention.

“Arthur. I’m here.”

He snaps in its direction. With an overly aggressive flap that causes another flash of pain, he frees the wings. Over by the shop’s entrance, under the darkened ‘Kingsman mechanic’ sign, is Vivi. She is sitting next to an unusually large gouge in the asphalt, propped up against the wall and under one of the smashed windows. Immediately, he starts towards her, rapidly closing the distance.

“Vivi! Thank god.”

His relief is, unfortunately, short-lived. Vivi, pale, eyes are slightly dazed, is holding her left shoulder in a way that suggests pain. Concern and worry ignite, speeding his approach.

“Arthur,” She repeats, “You’re okay. What are…” she hesitates, focusing on him as he comes to stand over her, “…What the hell are those.”

Arthur ignores the question in favour of assessing her injuries. There is some sort of gash over her right shoulder. The damage is hard to see because Vivi is covering it up with her blue jumper in an effort stem blood flow, but, going off how quickly the blue cloth is turning purple, it’s not good.

“I’m hallucinating. Does blood loss cause hallucinations?” Vivi asks, motioning him to her level. He is already collapsing down in front of her, trying to peer under the cloth, so it works out. 

“Shit. This is really serious,” Arthur mutters.

“Geez, these are real. I let you out of my sight for two seconds…and this happens,” Vivi comments, reaching with the hand not holding pressure on her injury to touch the feathers. She is getting blood everywhere, but Arthur is too preoccupied with his worry to care.

“Yeah. They’re real. Don’t ask,” He confirms, distracted, “We need to get you to a hospital.”

“Tis just a scratch,” Vivi jokes and winces, letting her arm fall limp. She focuses, groggy, on his face, attention then to moving to his ripped-up clothing.

“Are you okay?” She questions, words slurring ever so slightly.

“There’s a chunk missing from your shoulder,” Arthur objects to her concern, observing Vivi’s increasingly glazed expression with growing anxiety, “We need a hospital.”

“What happened to your clothes? They look shredded,” She asks.

Swiftly, he begins tieing the jumper down, so it’s actually secure and stemming further blood loss. His hands are shaking, but he doggedly pushes through any mounting panic.

“It’s nothing.“

_Should he call for an ambulance or should he load her up into Lance’s old cruiser? Where was his Uncle? He should have been home. Was he injured as well? Where was his phone?_ It had been in his back pocket, but it’s not there now. Probably, lost somewhere in between crashing, finding Lewis and his search for Vivi.

“Arthur,” Vivi starts, voice stern like Arthur is the one who’s downplaying life-threatening injuries.

“Vivi,” He mimics her tone, there are times for mothering, and this isn’t one of them, “Seriously, I’m fine. Whatever happened, it’s healed. Let’s focus on you.”

If only he could fix her as he had himself. But he has no idea what happened to him or how to replicate it. No idea about how he went from concussed to relatively fine. A weird, wing related, occurrence all wrapped up in golden yellow light and awakening at the bottom of a cave.

“Arthur,” Vivi repeats his name, this time in alarm, “What’s happening.”

Too consumed in his efforts to secure Vivi’s injury, Arthur has failed to notice the steadily increasing golden light emanating from his hands. In a pulse-like burst, the light flares then dims, creeping out from his fingers, sinking through the jumper fabric. Alongside this inexplicable glowing, is a sense that a whole lot of something fundamental is quickly draining away. _Maybe he should stop?_

Arthur tries to pull back, but an unexpected wave of heavy fatigue turns all his limbs to concrete. Very tired, all he can do is watch the colour and warmth return to Vivi’s features and then slump forward. Head resting against her shoulder, he’s too exhausted and oddly comfortable to care about getting her blood all over his face.

“ARTHUR!”

Vivi must be feeling better because her hands are digging into his shoulders with renewed strength, pushing him upright. That is good. Now, if he could just rest his eyes for a moment…

…

Yesterday, if someone had walked up to Vivi and told her that, within the next twenty-four hours, she’d be getting attacked by crazy trees, saved by her ‘actually a giant tailed fox’ dog Mystery, and miraculously healed from life-threatening injuries by a best friend who’d suddenly sprouted wings, she’d have at least done a double-take. Sure, she’s always had her suspicions about Mystery, those suspicions had stopped short at possible family guardian animal though, and she knew there was more to the world than initial impressions would suggest. God knows Arthur couldn’t go two steps without running into something strange. Then there were her own memory problems, as unexplainable as they were irritating, Arthur’s mysteriously missing arm, and a bunch of other red flags that were all rather obvious when one knew where to look. Oh no, it wasn’t the _existence_ of supernatural monsters that had her thrown, it was just the complete SNAFU of a situation unfolding around her.

Vivi shakes Arthur, trying to push him upright. His head lolls to one side.

“Arthur,” She tries his name for the third time.

Predictably, there is no response. He’s dead to the world. Whatever that golden light did, aside from healing her up, it had knocked him out cold. In contrast, she is as energised as ever. The haze of pain and thought consuming dizziness is gone, taking with it any fatigue. She’s pumped and ready for anything. Her shoulder is completely fine. There is no sign of her most recent stab wound anywhere.

That’s not normal.

Carefully, she shuffles around under Arthur’s deadweight. He’s heavier than she remembers. A side-effect of growing two additional limbs no doubt. The wings hang limb, a spread of uneven feathers, covering the ground on either side of them. She positions him so he is in her lap and not getting blood all over his face, checking for injuries as she goes. Geeze, if Arthur hadn’t just informed her that he was fine, she’d probably be panicking right about now. He’s a mess, with his clothes torn to shreds, hair mattered, covered in dried blood and dirt. The dark patterns and holes across his shirt hint that something sharp has gone straight into his chest. Vivi shivers, leaning in to double-check, pushing aside clumps of feathers. Thankfully, he seems okay.

“Vivi.”

The voice is deep, familiar yet strange. Her attention snaps up. She doesn’t know what she expects- _Lance maybe_\- but it’s definitely not that purple fire ghost from the spooky mansion. Vivi should really stop expecting things. After getting stabbed with a giant pair of garden shears, anything’s game.

“Hey?” She greets, unsure. Why it the mansion ghost here?

“You’re okay!” It says, relieved, “I was worried.”

“Thank you?”

Several small pink ghosts, they kind of look like blobs, creep towards her, floating near the ground. They’re super cute, and Vivi is insanely curious. She’d be all for making new ghost friends if not for the fact that Arthur is unconscious, she was just attacked by a living tree, and her last encounter with this ghost didn’t exactly end swimmingly. So, she raises herself into a crouch, and prepares to lunge forward or pull Arthur back should the need arise.

“Might want to slow down there buddy. Back up a step,” She instructs, addressing the smaller pink blobs as well. The ghost hesitates, confused, continuing with an unhelpfully baffled, “It’s me. I’m back,” like she should know who this was. Vivi gives the figure a thorough examination, sorting through her memories. It’s not hard. She doesn’t have a lot of memories anymore.

“Me who?” She asks. The response garners more confusion.

“Lewis. I’m Lewis.”

“Pardon?” She knows the name, but the recognition is hazy, linking it to one of her missing memories.

“You don’t…” The ghost starts then slaps a hand to its flaming forehead in realisation, “Oh. OH! Of course. Sorry. I…I look different like this.”

The ghost shifts, flames twisting, flickering away then settling into a more mundane purple vest, suit-pants, and hopeful smile. Aside from glowing purple eyes, this man appears entirely human. It’s pretty cool, Vivi has never seen a ghost shapeshift, but she still doesn’t know who this person is. He is familiar in the way that many things are familiar to Vivi, so she may have known him at one point. She kind of feels bad because the ghost-turned-human is looking on with such excited happiness, obviously expecting a positive reaction.

She clears her throat, “Ah. Neat trick…Is that a common ghost ability?”

She gets a pained frown. The human flickers and the fire returns, alighting in Lewis’s hair.

“You don’t recognise me?”

“No…Should I?” She has a feeling she should, but she can’t be sure. Lewis is still for a beat, bewildered and visibly distressed. Vivi is about to apologise, and maybe try and explain her memory problems, but Lewis suddenly glares at the unconscious Arthur, eyes narrowing dangerously.

Thoughts of apologies vanish, and Vivi is immediately on alert. The human vestige of Lewis flickers, flame growing. Quickly, she scoops up her aluminium bat from where it is resting on the concrete. Vivi hasn’t forgotten their first encounter with this ghost, which had involved being chased around a spooky mansion before narrowly escaping when said mansion collapsed into an inferno of fire.

“He’s done something. He made you forget,” The ghost growls, low and ominous. Fire inches towards them, creeping along the cracked concrete.

“Forget what?” She tries, only managing to throw fuel on the proverbial fire. Oh boy, this didn’t look good. Those little ghosts aren’t so cute when they are hissing hatefully at Arthur. Like ash, the fire spirit’s human façade flakes away completely. It’s mad and growing angrier by the second.

“ME!” Lewis moans, half pain and half rage, “You forgot me? Why?”

It glowers at Arthur, who is still resting in her arms, spitting, “What did he do!”

Vivi quickly lowers Arthur to the ground, springing up so she can position herself protectively over him. No way she is letting this creature hurt Arthur. Arthur may have no visible burns, but there are plenty of scorch marks on his clothes. With the ghost’s sudden mood swing, Vivi doesn’t need to be a genius to put two and two together. Deliberately, she steps forward, swinging her bat up and at the ready. This time she doesn’t have Mystery to suddenly transform into a giant tailed fox and fight her battles.

Anger, cold and hard, seals her will. Arthur’s always the one getting hurt. With nightmares, losing his arm, helping her through her memory problems when he had his own ones to deal with: the last few years have been a long series of kicks to the teeth. Vivi’s sick of it. Sick of every supernatural creature having it out for Arthur. Even when they aren’t looking for them, they come crawling out of the woodwork to make his life difficult. Not this time.

The talisman affixed to her bat glows bright blue, responding to her resolve. Vivi knows that, if the bat connects with the ghost, it’s going to hurt. She’s counting on it. Her breath mists like it might on a cold winter morning. Simultaneously, the temperature around her drops. Funny, considering that ghost across from her is fire-based, she’d expect the opposite.

“If you come any closer. I’m going to wack that skull right off your body,” Vivi threatens.

Her blatant aggression throws off whatever this ghost-Lewis is planning.

“Get away from him.” He snaps, “He’s not your friend.”

“No.” She retorts easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter matches up with [this](https://pi-cat000.tumblr.com/post/185746340982/msa-winged-arthur-au-part-5) and [this](https://pi-cat000.tumblr.com/post/186070021222/msa-winged-arthur-au-part-6) on Tumblr.


	4. Chapter 4

Fire crackles. Vivi twists the bat, tightening her grip. An upset, almost frustrated, growl comes from ghost-Lewis, but Vivi remains unmoved.

“Please.” The fire flickers and splutters, belaying the ghost’s confusion. In a move probably meant to pacify, ghost-Lewis spreads his arms wide, pleading, “You have to remember something.”

“I don’t ‘_have to_’ do anything,” She retorts, squaring up so she can put as much power as possible behind any future swing. A wounded expression and more fire is her response. Strangely, seeing this Lewis character in distress sparks a powerful wave of grief. It settles in her chest like a lead ball, entirely at odds with her situation. An echo of memory lost. Vivi resolutely ignores it, pushing past the discomfort. Whatever her history with this ghost may be, it is unimportant in this moment.

“He killed me. Murdered and left me.” One hand on his chest, the ghost gestures at Arthur with the other. “Did he tell you? Or did he lie about that too.” Fire flairs, burning a mix of purple and red. Vivi eyes the flames as they edge along the ground, igniting the supposedly inflammable concrete. Not real fire. Slowly, it encircles them, cutting off her escape. With Arthur and the wall directly behind her, Vivi understands the odds of her keeping them both safe are low should this ghost decide to enact a repeat of the mansion. 

She grits her teeth, narrows her eyes, and says slowly but deliberately, “I don’t believe you.”

More frustration follows, “That’s just it! You _should_ believe me. You _should_ know me! We were together, happy even. That must be why. The reason. He killed me to get you.”

“Excuse me?”

Her spluttered objection goes unaddressed, the ghost opting to mutter more to itself now, “Jealousy. That must be it. That has to be why he did it…Of course, he was lying when he said he forgot everything. Of course. Just trying to save himself like the coward he is, and I fell for it like an idiot.“

The utter nonsense continues.

Vivi tunes it out, more worried about the growing flames, which are becoming increasingly aggressive, reaching in. On either side of her those smaller pink ghosts inch closer, attention fixed on Arthur. Vivi eyes them, watching them growl and pulse sporadically. The fire now has her and Arthur surrounded on all sides. She is not feeling any heat. Small comfort when facing an emotionally unstable fire spirit. Vivi would even go as far as to say that Ghost-Lewis fell more into the ‘wraith’ category. ‘_An imprint of humanity bound to the mortal plane by fury and rage’ _was the warning given in almost every book she’d read_. _Whatever kindness and familiarity she’d seen when Lewis had asked after her wellbeing, it is all but gone now.

_Fear_. It creeps up into her chest, making it harder to breathe. It is the same fear that had locked her in place when facing down that tree creature. If she had just moved, then Mystery wouldn’t have had to leap in front of her and Arthur wouldn’t have knocked himself unconscious healing.

“NO!” She snaps, stamping and swinging the bat around in one smooth arc, aiming for the nearest pink blob. She is _not_ waiting around for this ghost to make the first move. Not when Arthur is in danger. She is _not_ afraid. Not this time. This time, she’s _angry_.

A bright flash of brilliant pale blue. _Thunk_. The bat hits home.

Icicles explode across the ground above the site of impact. Steam erupts in a thick cloud, hissing and briefly obscuring Vivi’s vision. The pink blob disintegrates instantaneously, evaporating with a pained shriek. Through the streams of water vapour, she sees ghost-Lewis recoil as if struck. Not exactly what she’d expected, the ice is new, but Vivi’s not about to question it. Now she knows that hurting the smaller ghosts also hurts the big one. Under any other circumstance, this observation would be fascinating.

Vivi advances a step, watching with some relief as the ghost-blobs all beat a hasty retreat, giving her a wide berth, hovering at ghost-Lewis’s shoulders. Frost collects at her feet, freezing the concrete. For a moment, the crackle of the fire is drowned out by spitting and sizzling as hot met with cold. 

To her chagrin, the ghost dares to look hurt, asking a confused, “Why?”

“I told you. I don’t care who you are or what you say. You try and hurt Arthur again, and I’ll stop you.” She turns the bat in between her palms, swinging it up. She’s not sure how or why the general-purpose talisman, meant to ward off evil, is producing ice and frost, but the timing couldn’t be better. Thankfully, the ghost finally heads her warning, backing up several more steps, putting a few meters between them. One hand massaging the glowing grey heart hovering at its chest, the ghost is hesitating now.

“Why are you protecting him!?” _It_ cries again, and Vivi doesn’t bother gracing it with a response.

Their stalemate is broken by a third voice.

“What the blazes is goin on here?”

This time, when she looks over, it really is Lance.

“Uncle Lance,” Vivi greets, grateful for the backup. Arthur’s uncle, having just stepped around from the desert facing side of the building, is holding his gun loose, analytical gaze darting between them. The man is covered in dirt and sweat but appears uninjured. Thank god. The last Vivi had seen, Lance had been following Mystery and the tree as they tore their way through the scrapyard. It’s a relief to see he’s all right.

“That ghost is trying to hurt Arthur.” She immediately informs and Lance, not even seconds hesitation, points his gun is its direction, expression narrowing.

“Is it now?”

“What! I’m not….” Wraith-Ghost starts to defend, hesitating when it realises what a hypocrite it is, “You don’t understand. He’s a murderer!”

A loud _CRACK_. The gun goes off, fired up into the air.

“That was a warning shot,” Lance growls, stepping into the open, stalking up to stand beside her.

Finally, _FINALLY_, the ghost stops, backing up completely and giving her space. She lets her muscles relax and the fear ebb. Lewis. Ghost. Wraith. Whatever it was, it slumps in defeat. For a second, she wants to nothing more than to run up and offer comfort. Tell the ghost that everything would be okay. She squashes the compulsion. Vivi would be the first in line to admit that she had a lot of memory gaps. She has forgotten so much of the past ten years that she wouldn’t be surprised if she had known this ghost at some point. The way it’s carrying on though, you’d think they were close. Very close. The ever-present shadow of fondness she feels, confirms it. There had been something between them at some point. Yet, the way it had tried to blame and hurt Arthur wasn’t something a past friend of hers would do. And if it was…then, maybe, whatever their relationship had been, it wasn’t one worth worrying about.

“What the?”

The loud declaration of confusion interrupts her contemplation. Vivi assumes he has just spotted the wings.

“I know. I have no idea how they got there. He collapsed before he could say anything.”

Lance, attention moving between her, the ghost, and Artur, exhales long and hard. Then he angles the gun more towards the ground, ordering, “Keep an eye on that bastard. If it moves, give a yell.”

She nods, stepping forward, allowing Lance inch around her and crouch next to Arthur. He needs to do a bit of manoeuvring to avoid stepping on Arthur’s mess of feathers, but he manages it in his grumpy Lance fashion.

While Lance checks on Arthur, she once again makes eye contact with the ghost. Now hovering closer to the entrance, near a beat-up semi-trailer – _where had that come from?_ – the ghost is anxiously clenching and unclenching its fists. Purple eyes are tracking their movements with a disturbing intensity. _Creepy_. Doubly so now ‘Lewis’ looks like a flaming skeleton again. She glares and receives that pitiful expression. Thankfully, with both her and Lance there, the ghost has decided to keep its distance. Vivi would rather it go away and return to its middle-of-nowhere-mansion, but it appears she’ll have to settle for whatever this was.

“He’s okay, I think, apart from the wings anyway. Too dark out here to see much besides feathers. I want to move him inside ta get a better look.” Lance leans back, muttering under his breath, “Also, it’s gotten mighty cold all of a sudden.”

Vivi nods again, relieved to have confirmation on Arthur’s wellbeing. She’s not really feeling the cold but going inside seems like a good a course of action as any.

“What happened to that tree creature?” She asks while Lance goes about trying to pick Arthur up.

“Gone, ran off into the desert with the giant fox.”

“That’s good…I think?” Vivi can’t help the twinge of worry for her fake dog who had been bleeding heavily last she’d seen. Mystery, who had been injured protecting her. Secret or no secret, she feels responsible.

“I got in a few good shots on the tree before they went outta range.” Lance continues to speak, before narrowing his eyes at ghost-Lewis, “What’s that things deal?”

“It’s a wraith,” She states, ignoring the way ‘Lewis’ wilts, flinching back, “They’re dangerous. It’s probably best we keep an eye on it.” Sure, ghost-Lewis seems relatively fine _now_ but she knows that calm is a facade hiding a whole lot of angry fire.

“Right.” Lance doesn’t question her, focusing instead on carrying Arthur which looks difficult due to how the wings flop about. Vivi wants to help but doesn’t like the idea of taking her attention off the ghost for any length of time. Luckily, after a little fussing and several swear words, Lance manages to sling Arthur over his back, so it looks like he’s wearing a very feathery coat. He shuffles his way to the front door. The trip takes an unreasonably long time, considering the door is only a few feet away. Vivi tracks their progress, on edge and anxious. 

There is some difficulty fitting Arthur through the screen door, forcing Vivi to turn and help arrange the wings in a way that will allow them past the frame. Once done, she about-faces to find the ghost has drifted closer, appearing hopeful now neither her or Lance are acting outwardly aggressive.

“No,” She says, brandishing her bat again. “You stay out here.”

“What,” The ghost, stunned, freezes in place, staring like she’s grown an extra head. Vivi steps forward, blocking the entrance.

“You’re not welcome inside this home,” She reiterates. “Uncle Lance. Tell ‘Lewis’ he’s not welcome inside.”

Lance, now just through the doorway, stumbles almost dropping Arthur, giving an abrupt, “Huh?”

“First rule of supernatural anything. They have to be invited into homes.”

“Not what…” Lance shakes his head, “What do yeh mean by ‘Lewis.’”

Okay, so Lance knows who Lewis is…Perfect. That doesn’t change anything aside from confirming her theory that she had known this ghost at some point. She waves pointedly, giving Lance as serious an expression as she can manage.

Lance’s gaze snaps to the ghost in befuddlement. “Hold up. Yeh not tellin me that that, right there, is Lewis?”

“That’s what he said his name was. Right before he tried to burn me and Arthur,” She states.

“I would never hurt you…I swear. It’s just…Arthur…he’s done something. I don’t know…there’s a lot I… you… don’t know. If you would just let me explain,” The ghost pleads again, genuinely remorseful. Talk about your mood swings. Another point in favour of her wraith hypothesis.

“Is that before or after you burn us both to a crisp.” Vivi snaps back.

Lance side-eyes her seriously. Then he examines the ghost, expression hardening.

“Hurt my nephew and yeh ain’t welcome here. Simple as that,” He grunts and turns, heaving Arthur with him.

“No! You can’t. I’m telling the truth!” The ghost reaches out, fire guttering and flickering to his more human form. He sounds desperate. With one shaking arm, he grasps towards her, “Please.”

Vivi glowers and deliberately slams the door in the, now human, face. For a second, she doesn’t move, waiting to see if ‘Lewis’ is going force his way in. There is only a loud cry of frustration, more sad and mournful than angry. Back against the door, Vivi exhales hard. Why does her chest hurt like it’s full of breaking glass? She runs a hand along her collar bone trying to massage the ache away. It’s useless, the pain isn’t physical. An inhale, and she pushes herself off the door. 

When she enters the combined living-dining space, Lance has already dragged Arthur to the couch and is in process of wrestling him into a comfortable position. He’s doing his best to work around the copious number of feathers but is struggling to find success. Vivi rushes forward to help, glad for the distraction. They end up lying Arthur down on his stomach so the wings are draped over the couch’s backrest and spill onto the carpeted floor.

“That true? The stuff about welcoming in supernatural creatures?” Lance grunts, while he checks Arthur’s pulse and breathing, running a hand over Arthur’s head and the rest of his limbs, searching for breaks or other injuries.

“I don’t know,” She sighs, straightening, “There’s a lot of lore spanning multiple mythologies, and it crops up a lot in older superstitions. It’s more of an educated guess.”

A thoughtful hum.

“Suppose it’s better than nothin. Those myths happen ta mention anything like this?” Lance is now repositioning the wings to look more natural while muttering, “Don’t know nothin about birds. Do these look like they’re sittin right?”

“No myths that I can think of off the top of my head. I mean there are a few where people turn into birds. Not that I think that Arthur is turning into a bird,” Vivi hastens to clarify when Lance gives her an expression of acute alarm. She shuffles nearer, pointing at Arthur, “I think those are flight feathers. They’re definitely not supposed to be bent like that.”

They spent a few seconds straightening the plumages in soft silence. 

“There are a bunch of mythical humanoid creatures that have wings and such. I don’t know…maybe you’re related?“ Vivi breaks the quiet and is met with a blank expression. “Do you have any relatives who mysteriously vanished for a few years then rocked up pregnant or with an unknown baby? Was anyone adopted into the family? Like, did someone find a child abandoned on the steps to your house and decided to keep it? Any sudden changes in a family member’s personality like they’d been mysteriously replaced?”

“What are yeh on about?”

“The most common reason why humans’ manifest supernatural traits is usually bloodline related. Someone somewhere had a fling with something not quite human,” Vivi elaborates to which Lance frowns, obviously thinking.

“There’s nothin like that that I can think of. But, don’t get along with the bastards, so who the hell knows.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. I guess I can jump online and look into it.” She looks back to Arthur. “Maybe later…”

Carefully, she reaches out from where she is crouched to smooth out a few more feathers which are twisted at odd-looking angles. They feel real, growing from between Arthur’s shoulder blades and extending into smaller downier feathers a little along his back. His shirt has ripped from where the appendages had grown in. No sign of that golden light from earlier.

“Who’s Lewis.” She asks, the question coming suddenly. The response is particular. A huff of air followed by tired and drawn eyes. Lance appears almost haunted.

“Humph. Ain’t that a question and a half,” He stands, glancing towards the broken windows. From this angle, they can just make out the back end of the semi-trailer but said ghost is out of view.

“I know him, right? This Lewis person?” Vivi prods.

“Yeah. Yeh know him.”

Lance turns, calculating, “Suppose I could tell yeh more, seeing as ya seem to be retainin the name ‘Lewis’ well enough.”

“Wh…?”

“But not before I get a drink and yeh see to any of ya own injuries. Arthur’s fine enough, but yeh look dead on ya feet.”

What did Lance mean by ‘_retaining the name_?’ Was this linked to her memory gaps? Probably.

“I’m fine. I mean, I wasn’t fine. I got stabbed here,” She rubs her shoulder, “but, Arthur kind of took care of it.”

Lance peers at her shoulder. There’s a lot of dried blood but no sign of the injury it came from.

“Arthur? He did what now?”

“Healing magic. It’s what knocked him out. He just, I don’t know, healed everything. I actually feel great, like I’m on some crazy energy drink. Ah… Sorry.”

Lance snorts, rubbing his eyes, “Don’t apologise. That boy wouldn’t know self-preservation if it hit him over the head. If you’re sure ya ain’t injured any, then how about yeh keep an eye on the kid while I get us something to drink. Then I’ll tell yeh what I know of Lewis.”

Vivi relaxes a little and nods.

“What can I get yeh?” Lance pauses in the doorway.

“Uh…Tea I guess? Herbal if you have it.”

Lance disappears and she hears things being moved around in the kitchen. Vivi settles down into a more comfortable position on the ground next to Arthur, continuing to smooth the feathers. So, she was right, ghost-Lewis fit somewhere into the swiss-cheese that was her memory of the last several years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter matches up with [ this](https://pi-cat000.tumblr.com/post/186232262782/msa-winged-arthur-au-part-7) and [this.](https://pi-cat000.tumblr.com/post/186675265272/msa-winged-arthur-au-part-8)


End file.
